Cowboy Comes Home
Rachel Lee
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Anna Fleming was sure no one could see her.
She stood in the back of Good Shepherd Church in a dimly lit corner and watched the wedding ceremony. It was everything she had ever dreamed of for herself and the embodiment of all the dreams she had lost. A sad little sigh escaped her, but almost at once she lifted her chin and reminded herself not to wallow. It was always wiser to count one’s blessings.
She was a mousy woman, small and bland looking in a shapeless brown dress and sensible shoes. Her dark hair was drawn back severely, and her wide brown eyes peered at the world from behind gold-rimmed glasses. Those glasses were the most flamboyant part of her apparel, but they were nothing out of the ordinary.
And that was how she liked it, she told herself as she watched Sheriff Tate’s daughter marry the policeman from Los Angeles. No one noticed her, no one at all, and in her invisibility and anonymity, she found the only safety she had ever known.
Reverend Fromberg, a gentle man in his late forties, read the vows in a sonorous voice that reached the back of the church without difficulty.
Anna listened to the words and wondered what it would be like to trust someone enough to make those promises. She couldn’t imagine it. Trust, she had long ago learned, was more likely to be betrayed than fulfilled.
Stifling a weary sigh, she turned quietly and slipped out the side door into the vestibule, where she descended the stairs into the church basement. The room was brightly lighted and decorated for the reception and supper to follow the wedding. Anna walked swiftly around, checking to be sure that everything was in order. The caterers were putting last-minute touches on everything, and it wasn’t really her responsibility, but she checked anyway. This was her church, and she was secretary to Reverend Fromberg, as well as leader of the youth group. She couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened on church property reflected on her employer, and upon herself.
Satisfied, she darted back toward the stairway, planning to vanish back into the shadows in the church above, but found her way blocked by the looming bulk of the man known to everyone as Cowboy. He wasn’t a large man, but he was solidly built, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a face that looked as if it had seen a great deal of hardship and sorrow. Anna was scared of him for no other reason than that she didn’t know him, or anything about him, really.
Being caught by him like this, all alone—she completely forgot the caterers at the other end of the basement—startled and unnerved her. She jumped back and stumbled.
His arm shot out as swiftly as a striking snake and caught her elbow, steadying her.
Anna froze, looking up at him, uncertain what would happen next. Part of her realized he had just saved her from falling, but mostly she was aware that he was touching her. She hated to be touched. Suddenly, freed from her paralysis, she shook off his hand.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice slow, deep and steady. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I…” Suddenly embarrassed by her reaction to him, she felt she needed to say something. But what?
He gave her a half smile. “It’s okay. I saw you come down here and wondered if maybe you were sick or something. People don’t usually run out in the middle of the wedding vows. I thought you might need help.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t know all these other folks were down here.”
Before she could think of a single thing to say, Cowboy turned and climbed the stairs. Anna stared after him, her eyes full of unspoken fears and wishes.
Hugh Gallagher, known far and wide as Cowboy for some damn reason he’d never been able to figure out, took his place at the back of the church and watched Janet and Abel Pierce pose for photographs with the wedding party. A steady stream of guests began to make their way to the rear of the church, toward the stairs that led down to the church basement.
There would be laughter and food and many more pictures taken before the day was over, but Cowboy turned toward the door, getting ready to leave.
He was invited to the reception—hell, the sheriff had invited damn near everyone in the county to one or another of the parties he was throwing to celebrate this event—but he wasn’t a party person. Crowds still made him uneasy, and the basement itself was too confined a space to make him comfortable, even when it was empty.
He hesitated, though, thinking of mousy Miss Fleming, the church secretary, and how startled she’d been to run into him on the stairs. He didn’t like it when people reacted to him that way. It reminded him of things better left forgotten.
If he made himself go down there, maybe he could talk to her a bit, get her over her fear. He didn’t want her reacting that way when she saw him again. On the other hand, if he went down there he was going to have to deal with his damn claustrophobia and all the other phobias that he preferred to leave undisturbed as much as possible.
Hell.
He hesitated a few moments longer, then decided to head outside and smoke a cigarette. Forcing the issue wasn’t going to make Anna Fleming any more comfortable with him. He would just have to bide his time until a better opportunity came along.
Outside, the October twilight was already fading into night. The air was chilly but still, not too uncomfortable. Besides, he was used to far worse after wintering in the mountains in lean-tos and tents. He stepped off the walk onto the grass and lit a cigarette, inhaling with real pleasure. He ought to quit, and knew he was going to have to if he ever got his dream of a youth ranch off the ground, but for now, he savored every puff.
He wasn’t the only one who sneaked out for a smoke.
